Redemption
by X-Kiwi-X
Summary: Petter Pettigrew. A traitor, a murderer and a sick twisted little man. But do we judge too quickly? A letter was found after the final battle written to all his enemies. A copy has recently been published for you to read...


**Redemption **

**Disclaimer: I would love to own this all as well as millions of pounds, but I don't otherwise I would be writing more stories to get more money. Wouldn't you, eh?**

I wouldn't expect you to ever understand why I did it. But you weren't there. You didn't have to choose. You weren't the one tempted by the forbidden fruit. You weren't the one who was terrified, petrified, paralysed by the fear of betraying your friends, or living a life, rather then having it cut off suddenly in a flash of green. It alright saying that you would die to protect the ones you love, but could you do that when the most powerful man in centuries, because none can deny it, is threatening you with ending your life. Never to see the sun again, never to walk again, never to hug, never to drink, never to eat, never to talk, to just be gone.

You judge me based on what I did. But can you in all honesty say that you would die? Few can. Many can when there just sitting their reading this little paragraph. When push comes to shove though suddenly it gets a whole lot harder. Plus, were they really my friends? Would I be dying for ones I love? Not in reality. They all treat me with mixed emotions. Some with utter contempt or disgust, that they have to share the title Wizard with something like me. Some with patronizing smiles and the subtle knowledge that they know more then you. And some didn't even bother to notice my existence. All this treatment leads to a lot of anger, resentment and hate. The three emotions which fuel the power of the dark arts. Something I was good at, for the first time in years.

So I took the power and the pleasure in one. Wiped out more then random strangers. I killed my friends. I was valuable and respected. The most powerful wizard in the century relied on me to give him vital details to his cause. I was aptly rewarded, power and revenge are powerful tools of the trade. Of course I had a few slips, a few minor suspicions I don't doubt. I never be so big headed to try and claim that I'm perfect. But then again, who is?

Of course Lady Luck has never wooed me. She prefers to contradict my every life choice. That little Potter brat. No human could resist The Killing Curse, not even my master escaped when it was cruelly flung back at him by a mere baby. A baby which resisted, rebounded the curse. Screamed in pain as his head was split open in that distinctive scar, a lightening bolt, but didn't die. My master on the other hand yelled in agony. I could hear him, outside, crouched low behind a bush where I had been waiting, waiting for a chance to gloat over my tortures bodies. But all I could hear was my mater screaming in agony, slowly dieing, and my harsh, crackling sobs.

I ran that night. For the first time in years, I was so moved by what I heard, so inept at thinking I had to run away. I haven't run away from something since school. Maybe I could of helped, maybe I couldn't. But all I know is that I was in deep trouble. There was no a chance in hell that Sirius doesn't know I did it. But he was pretending to be the secret keeper. People would think it was him that betrayed the Potter's. He would track me down. I could maybe trick everyone, lose everything except my freedom but I would be free...Can you not see the great plan? Can you not put two and two together and get four? You know what I did...and you should know I don't regret it. Once again I was running from the enemy, working out how to save myself. What else could I do now? I was past turning back.

Not much more needs to be said, for the next 12 years were spent in extreme comfort. Oh yeah...I was a rat. It was horrible, but my family were happy to stuff me full of food and ignore me and they were wizarding family, great for keeping my rather sensitive ears open. But then of course, Lady Luck waved her lucky little hand and swept all of it away. I had to face them again. While they may of hated me and I had enjoyed the revenge, they were still my little group for seven years of my life. Regret is a natural human emotion. So it was hard to look at them, be reminded of their loyalty to each other, which I had pushed aside. But the tears I cried that night were crocodile, all I wanted to do was escape. Until he said that line.

**"Died. As we would have done for you."**

Said with blazing voices, heightened emotions, just in passing, in the middle of a speech. But it hit me. It made me realise what I did. I killed people. Hundreds of innocent people, with no better excuse then jealousy. Simple line said with blazing honesty and passion, but it was the one that got me. I seemed to wake up. I remember feeling the dust under my fingers, the heat of the bodies around me, circling me, trapping me into a corner like you would a dog. I could hear the harsh breathing of the injured boy, the shallow panicky breath of the girl and the other three's roaring, arguing, their accusations of what I had done. Shame was the best emotion to state what I was feeling. But it wasn't entirely shame. Regret, grief and a smidgen of hysteria were mixed in. But they seemed to be in a wall, dammed up in me. I knew they were there but even if I tried, I could not experience them. I was still focused on survival. Years as a spy will affect you in more ways then you realise.

But I escape and carry on running around the country as a filthy, stinking rat. Now the grief began to nag at me. But I ignored it, as I found the directions to the forest of evil, where a spirit was possessing random creatures, killing them off. Possibly nothing, but since it was favouring snakes...my master was great but predictable in many cases. One reason for the fact he has never succeeded, I suspect. During the travels to the forest the grief began to throw me off course, made me waver in decisions to carry on. I still did, but with heavy reluctance. Power is a drug, addictive, almighty and so intimidating. He could provide me with what I wanted. What I needed by that point. The grief was strong though, and the cravings were lessening.

I found my master, initiated spells, gained knowledge I never knew could exist. I was powerful. But the grief was raw and harsh. My master saw my grief and punished me. I became a wreak. I couldn't obey my master out of grief, but I couldn't grieve because I was punished. So screwed no matter what I did, that days were no longer days but mere seconds. It would take me hours to complete simple tasks but in my mind it was mere seconds since I had been asked.

Time continued as it does, without my knowledge though. It was all nothing. Months passed by in a blink of an eye. It was all repetition now. Kill a few muggles, concoct a few potions, follow through with the devised schemes. I gave my everything to this man before, now I was on automatic. I would do everything he told me to. I would kill myself, or provide blood, or as the case proved, my own arm. I t hurt to lose yes, but the pain was real. I no longer cared for anything but pain. It was just so comforting. I had always been taught pain was a punishment. A way of ending the guilt I felt now for every murder. I was a murderer. It was vile and sick.

Once the death eaters were back I began to realise that there was no power this time around. Many of the other death eaters had grown in status or sacrificed much in the aid of the master. This time around I could not spy, and my magic was weakened severely by my constant remorse. I was useless. I was pathetic. I was sick of it.

There was a lull for a long time in any orders concerning me. I knew the final battle was on. It was coming. Harry Potter had been about searching for The Lord, nothing unusual, but this time he was looking for single combat. My master was more then happy to comply and provide an ambush for the rest of the light side. My friends were in that side. That faithful little community held so many people I had to reach. So I took a big chance.

I waited until the final meeting, then I struck. Waited until they were all leaving. Then I released it all. My grief and sorrow and shame and cravings all went into this little scheme. It would buy the light side a few precious minutes, time enough for them to get the owl I sent ahead, warning them of the imminent danger. I jumped in the room, bleeding profusely from the nose and random scratches. Pain was nothing anymore, it didn't hurt to do the injuries and I was only acting the state I was in. I started screaming about an attack around the back door. Many young and aspiring death eaters ran out into the halls, but all they would reach was a couple of lose magical animals around the building, my pets. A couple of vicious little darlings the way I treated them.

Left in the room now were a few of the main death eaters. Dark Lord had exited the room previously as he had to feed. They began to question me, chide me, even tease me that I could not win. Then the screams of younger death eaters came from down the hall. Even my pets could not cause that much terror. And it wasn't. It was the light side. They had come. But for me it was too late. Vampires were a strong force in the dark side. They knew to read my mind. The learned the truth. There's not much more to tell. They began to accuse me. The death eaters fled the room to battle and I followed in the hope of hiding. The vampires hunted me. They haven't had magical blood in a while, since Lord told them to pick off influential muggles in an attempt to diminish the countries power. Magical blood tastes different, has different qualities, so they were longing for it by now. I ran and hid as best I can amongst the bodies in the battle. I threw off my heavy cloak during the fight, though. I attacked the Dark Side. Until I was hit by several torturous curses, I fought. But soon, I was bleeding profusely. I could hardly stand by then. But the vampires were killing everyone. I saw Harry fighting one defending a bleeding little red haired girl. I slipped over to her. She was delirious and couldn't see who was with her. I poured a few healing potions down her throat. Then I stood up. I stood by Harry. He was sweating and exhausted. I looked at his eyes. They narrowed in contempt and he raised his wand. I raised my hand. He looked confused, but I merely looked at him. He seemed to realise what was happening though, that I had changed sides. That or the fact that a vampire chose to bite me, and generally people on the same side don't try and kill each other.

I'm not to sure on what happened battle wise after that. I collapsed, and the vampire let go of me. I crawled off expecting another attack but it never came. I reached the room I'm in currently and barred the door. The battle is still raging, and the light are nearly victorious. Only a few vampires and The Lord remain. The few vampires are outside my barred door. This room is a good room, as it has plenty of potions and bandages in. Even death eaters get hurt sometimes. The vampires want to come in for shelter. They will get in soon and they will eat me and the light who are tracking them will find them and kill them while they are in the motions of a feast. And I will of done some good then. I will have distracted the vampires until the light can claim them, and destroy them. It is pathetic but it's the best I have to cling to. Must dash now,

Yours sincerely

Peter Pettigrew

_**This is a remaining note from Remus, acquaintence to the originator of this letter.. Peter Pettigrew has been murdered by several Hungarian Vampires. He put up a good battle and will be remembered for it. His body has been buried and a copy of his letter sent out to everyone he requested. He will never be forgiven, but now he is understood, to a point. He has still been registered with the murders of **_

_**Lily Potter**_

_**James Potter**_

_**Jacob Joyce**_

_**Tim Moore**_

_**Georgia Valentine**_

_**Daniel Holden**_

_**Ryan Jones**_

_**Raz Bedhiri**_

_**Maya Grudnowska**_

_**Harry Puppet**_

_**Frank Penguit**_

_**Bob Murdoc**_

_**Rest In Peace.**_

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_So what do you think? Better or worse rewritten? Or just bad idea? You tell me. I'm not very happy with it but its been edited a few times. I'm finding it hard to get the right emotions described, so I stoped trying to describ them in detail. Possibly re-write this again sometime in the future. Almost defiently will. Review per favour?_


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